My Twisted Fairytale
by fAteD lOvE
Summary: AU. A twisted version of events, stemming from the turning point in Arya's life that will affect Alagaesia's future. As a prospective relationship with Faolin is uncovered, fate brings a suave suitor to be discovered: Eragon, son of Rider Brom.
1. Chapter 1: Coming of Age

Hey, it's me again!! This fic is dedicated to my faithful readers who review every chapter of mine they can get their hands on, read all my stories just because it was me who wrote it, and who have encouraged me with their reviews to continue writing.

Extended Summary: AU. A twisted version of events, stemming from an important turning point in Arya's life that will affect Alagaesia's future. As a prospective relationship with Faolin is uncovered, fate brings a suave suitor to be discovered: Eragon, the much sought after son of Rider Brom. Watch their journey into life, through the fourth book and beyond, watch them mature, and grow into their destiny.

Check out my list of best Eragon authors by popular vote soon in the coming chapters, also my list of to come stories which I will post when I've written enough chapters to keep up with demand: Bear with me please:

-Ten worst compromising positions/Ten worst ways to be discovered:

Title is self explanatory, short drabbles that are not suitable for minors and sensitive eyes as they contain slight smutty scenes or limes, mixed in with a lovestuck Arya and Eragon. Go figure.

-Midnight Truths:

Set long after the forth Eragon book, tells of Eragon and Arya who are very close friends, the Agaeti Blodhren, and how they discover through Could it Be by Christy Carlson Romano, that they are much much more.

-The Worst, most Outrageous, and Ridiculous pairings and Occurances ever:

Slight crack fic, again, obvious plot from the title. But seriously, they will make you fall off your chair, you have never read one of these, it is not like the other ones of it's kind, which are not written with formal serious language in humour. If you're nice, maybe I will send out a preview to the inbox of selected fanfic members.

-Tell Him:

The theme is what the title tells you, does Arya reveal her feelings while time is running out for a mortally wounded Eragon?

And lastly,

-Meet the Parents:

I've got the general idea, but haven't written the plot down yet. I've written most of this story, and I couldn't be bothered making this chapter better and adding stuff, so I just uploaded it.

Please read till the end before judging the story, because better and more important things unfold further along the next chapters. EragonArya.

Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Eragon does not belong to me, if it did, Eragon and Arya would be on a bed somewhere in Ellesmera performing M rated activities that will burn your eyes off (for you prudes), and for us who like our daily dose of smut, we will be popping open a bottle of bubbly (even though I am underage for alcohol) and celebrating (and possibly spying).

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Chapter One- Coming of Age 

There was a gust of cool wind as the door flew open, the newly entering person catching the doorknob quickly just in time to keep it from slamming from the force of her opening it as she walked in.

The scrolls ruffled, and smaller pieces were caught in the updraft, twirling in circles to the ground.

Islanzadi sighed imperceptibly, not looking up as she said, "Yes, daughter, why do you seek me?"

There was light step on the hardwood as the princess came forward forgetting all pleasantries and etiquette for her mother.

The queen lay down her quill gently, turning in her elaborately wood-sung chair away from her desk as she faced her guest.

"Mother, why was I not informed that you have invited several who could be potentially my future mate to my thirtieth birthday ball?" Arya asked, her green eyes flashing, hands on her hips.

"Dear Arya, I never implied that I was matchmaking. Just simply being polite by asking sons of several noble, elvin houses to attend." Islanzadi said airily, waving a hand carelessly.

"Several 'sons' who are obviously and visibly around my age, wealthy, and _noble_?" Arya asked skeptically.

"You will be delighted to hear they are very good dancers, intelligent and very eligible." Islanzadi told her.

"That is not all what I look for in a companion, Mother. And, you have just given away your cover; I know you invited them with me in mind." Arya replied.

"Very well, you uncovered me, but you can't blame me for trying!" The Queen protested, "Just humour me. For once, please?"

Arya sighed, "You're incorrigible, I have just come of age, and already you are lining up suitors."

Islanzadi shrugged, grinning, "I am just excited. It is never too early to introduce you to the male population. By the way, have you gone for your dress fitting yet? The ball is tomorrow evening." She said.

"I was about to...when I overheard fellow female elves discussing or sighing over, the 'good-looking lords that are to arrive later today'..." Arya said wryly.

Her mother opened the door and pushed her outside, "Run along then, Arya, I shall see you at dinner." She slammed the door closed, with a sigh from the woman behind it that sounded like something akin to relief.

Arya huffed irritably, then set her shoulders, lifting her chin and making herself look presentable once again.

"It did not go well, then?" Faolin asked, her bodyguard and friend.

"Nay, Faolin-vor, it never does," She shook her head.

He chuckled, "It is the same with all parents. Fact of life."

They set off out of Tialdari hall, feet padding quietly along the footpath towards the village where they would go to the Royal seamstress.

As they walked, some elves stopped and paid their respects, bowing politely to Arya, murmuring, "Princess".

She smiled at them, and nodded her head, acknowledging their greetings.

The store came into view, and Faolin stopped outside, "I will wait outside for you."

She continued inside, opening the door that gave a small merry jingle as it snapped shut.

The delicate elf maiden fluttering and fussing around a mannequin in the centre of the shop jumped when Arya spoke.

"Greetings, Naaira, you are certainly busy at work," Arya said, smiling as she looked at the dresses on display with admiration.

"Oh! Your majesty," She hurriedly curtsied, "Never too busy for you, though."

Arya laughed, "thank you, but how many times have I asked you to call me Arya?"

"It is not befitting to someone of your rank, I think." Naaira said.

"Not that again," Arya groaned, "Don't give me that, you of all people, old friend, you have known me long enough."

"Only if you refrain from calling me your 'old' friend," Naaira laughed as well.

"Deal." Arya said.

"Are you here for your dress?" The seamstress asked, beckoning to her and entering the backroom.

"For my fitting, my _mother_ insisted." Arya said a little venomously.

Naaira looked amused and handed her the gown that she drew reverently from a private closet that was empty now that it's load was taken away, "Go change."

Arya did as requested and made her way into a small room.

Soon she came out, decked in finery, skirts rustling, "Will you tie this up for me?"

Naaira nodded and helped lace up the back of her corset, then rearranging the fabric to cover the ties.

Arya turned around and spun in a small circle," So, what do you think?"

Naaira smiled, "As beautiful as ever, Arya, the guests will be in for a surprise, especially the bachelors."

Arya sighed, "So even you knew?"

The other woman giggled nervously, "It is a shame that the one of the talk of the female population will not be there though, he is gaining popularity quite quickly."

Arya cocked an eyebrow, "Who is he?"

Naaira's eyes were dreamy, and she collapsed in an armchair behind her.

"They say he is very eligible. Handsome looks beginning to properly develop, already a fierce warrior, master of the blade and archery, hand to hand and proficient in magic.

That's not all though, they say he is very literate and educated as well, a born poet. He has just come of age, just like you, Arya. He is gaining quite an amount of attention, but he is very slippery, he manages to evade women very well. I do not know if all that is true, but it is what I have heard." She said, letting a deep breath escape her lips.

Arya repeated herself, "Who is he?"

"He is the son of Rider Brom, the famous rider. They travel a lot, from Vroengard to the Beors, that's why his son trains with the best of the best. Surely you know him- Brom has visited Ellesmera before, although, I do not think his son has."

Arya was vaguely interested now, "What is his name?"

Naaira smirked, "Wouldn't you want to know! His name is Eragon."

Arya started, "Eragon? Is that not the name of the first rider?" She sat with her thoughts for a while before voicing them, "What a powerful name, I have not heard anybody yet with the same."

"Yes, isn't it manly though? Eragon..." She seemed to be off in her own world, fantasizing.

"Why do you think he has not been invited to my celebration then?" Arya asked, more to herself.

"Perhaps your mother thinks he is not good enough for you, but that will be good for the rest of us common folk." Naaira said.

Arya was about to reply when she was cut off by a male voice drifting through the door.

"Princess, is everything all right? A fitting does not take this long, does it?" Faolin asked, a little anxiety in his tone.

Naaira lifted an eyebrow, "It is your paranoid second half, Arya dear." She remarked jokingly.

Arya rolled her eyes, and raised her voice, "It is all right Faolin, we were just talking," she directed her next sentence at Naaira, "you make assumptions just because he follows me everywhere. It is his job after all."

"Keep telling yourself that. I can tell he is fond of you." Naaira said slyly.

"We have been together long, it doesn't mean anything." Arya said, her face in a mock serious expression.

Naaira lifted an eyebrow and conceded but by no means, looked believing. "Very well, walk out there and show him then."

"Show him what?" Arya asked, avoiding.

"The gown, go! It's not like he is accompanying you to the ball, he's just an escort. Actually, not even that." The brunette said.

Arya looked confident. She squared her shoulders and slipped through the edge in the door, Naaira following at her heels.

Naaira fixed her eyes on Faolin's face.

Arya stoke a pose dramatically, exaggerating her movements.

Naaira's hawk-like gaze narrowed and she felt a triumphant when Faolin's eyes widened and his lips parted slightly.

He spoke, "You...look wonderful, even more so than the morning glory I created for you, you outshine the sun itself."

"That's quite enough, Faolin," Naaira interrupted, "Arya and I need to have a girl talk."

She dragged a protesting Arya back into the previous room and beamed at her.

"Did you see his reaction?" She whispered in an undertone so that Faolin could not hear, "He is infatuated!"

Arya blushed a little, "Don't be silly, woman, he was simply..." She could not find any words.

"Yes?"

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My my, don't you feel so special that I uploaded so much for you ;-) If you got down to here, I applaud you, this chapter was an introduction to the rest of the story and was actually quite important in setting the tone and base. 

Well, please review, I thrive on them. The more the merrier, as they say, and merry I will be…very merry blank stare.

If I can get around thirteen reviews (my rule of thumb or in this case, reviewing) from you wonderful people, there will be the next chapter very soon and possible some stories.

I know that might be asking a little much, especially in people's opinion pointing at that person who commented in 'Where the Heart Is' who said "i muct warn you that there are spells when you get very few reviews. one oof my storries has gone for reviews: 8,9,3,2,1...dont get ur hopes up", I'll prove you wrong, just because some people don't, doesn't mean everybody doesn't, I have faith in my reviewers and plus seeing what they can do and actually having more than 38 in one chapter in 'Inevitable Fate', although I don't actually think that story was any good…maybe you should look back to your own stories? I appreciate your comment to my fic though and I am actually a fan of _Elders_.

Note: Fic will be T for now, just kissing, small-med fighting scenes & etc. As the chapters go along and the characters develop and mature, it'll be M because of sexual references/smut/limeishness whatever you want to call it.

Eragon will be making an appearance soon. Yay.

REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW!

No, seriously-

-REVIEW.


	2. Chapter 2: Hello handsome!

Yeah yeah I know…I haven't been updating…but thanks to those who reviewed my first chapter :D I'm thrilled at the response.

It'll be going pretty slowly because this fic is quite long.

Enjoy the young and innocent Arya, it won't last long…

Guess who is introduced in this chapter?

Disclaimer: **_Fan_**fiction...go figure

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Chapter Two- (Hel-lo handsome!)

The feast in itself was a success, people chattered animatedly around the lavishly decorated, open aired ballroom, elves danced and sang, ate and drank till their minds, stomachs and hearts were content.

The birthday girl -newly turned woman- herself had shown been a vision; clad stunning gown of shimmering mysterious green, hair uncomfortably pinned up, young features pale and courtly: a true princess of the forest. True to her word, she did not attempt to hastily disengage herself whenever a suitor approached, instead politely conversing and acting her part.

Arya could see her mother across the glade with Ellesmera's guest: the Rider Brom, enjoying watching her daughter inwardly squirm with all the male attention with tremendous gleeful enjoyment, half paying attention, for once, to what her companion was saying to her.

Curse the sly woman to the void.

It had only been a few hours after the start of the event, when she decided that she'd had had enough. She excused herself from her current situation, which involved stepping back every few seconds, as the skinny elf approached closer towards her every few words, presumably because of his enthusiasm.

Damnation to elven politics and elven politeness: she had not been attracted to him from his first appearance, but he obviously thought they had a deep connection. She rolled her eyes. To be truthful, this elf was barely tolerable, he did not have any of that fiery passion, that charisma, she craved in a man...but who was she to judge? Her expectations of her perfect match were not clear, even to herself yet.

Inwardly despairing, she quietly slipped away from all the cacophony and light, turning into a small hidden path in the shadows that led into a narrow hallway.

Arya stole around the dark corridors and hid behind vines and shrubbery as people passed.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she remained undiscovered. About to step out again and continue on towards the Menoa tree, she froze when she heard a voice close by.

Her hearing strained and she managed to catch quiet strains of a melody, a smooth, male tenor sang gently in a practiced way.

Arya peered around carefully, holding onto a railing to balance herself.

Enchanted, she followed the path of the voice. A dark silhouette was bordered by the translucent moonlight beside a dark pond. The form was bent over in half in order to study the flowers by the bank closely, a hand stretched out to feather over the petals.

She was not sure if this were an illusion. The princess approached slowly, feet automatically drawing her close, making no noise on the dewy lush grass. Her mind paid no attention to warnings that this was a stranger.

Hiding behind a massive trunk, her hands on the rough bark, Arya watched him straighten.

His voice continued to flow, the song slow and unhurried, the heavenly notes drifting, floating in the still clear, romantic air of this night.

'_...then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime; let me lead you from your solitude..._'

Arya jolted inwardly, this was one of her favourite love ballads. Her father had sung it to put her to sleep, long and long ago to her mind. Before he had died in the line of duty, but…it was not a night for dark thoughts. She had already dealt with the pain and loneliness of his passing.

Its lyrics were a half remembered tangle inside of her head.

'_...say you need me with you, here beside you, anywhere you go, let me go too, that's all I ask of you..._'

She closed her eyes, and leaned her head against the tree, her body relaxing. Her father's voice resounded inside her head, she remembered his loving, melodious singing and offhandedly mused on how alike, yet different it was to the one of the strangers'.

'..._Share each day with me, each night, each morning. Say you love me..._'

He himself seemed to drift away into this own undertones, his voice fading out, but the music still playing in the air.

Arya lifted her head looking past the trunk again, slightly half annoyed and disconcerted at his halt, though she did not know why.

'_...you know I do..._' she continued, her voice soft and lilting.

She stepped out of the shadows confidently, walking slowly towards him.

His eyes and head jerked up, face surprised, and she faltered a little when his sapphire orbs seemed to penetrate through her. His eyes stood out in the dark cloak that covered their surroundings; misty, deep and gleaming with a taste for life, the same azure colour as the oceans that Arya had heard about from the elders.

A moment later, he was game, singing the next line, his emotions quickly covered up, and she joined in, eyes on his face, _'Love me, that's all I ask of you. Anywhere you go let me go too...love me, that's all I ask of you.._."

Their voices died away in harmony, and nature's silence ruled over once more.

A lengthy moment later, he spoke, his eyes bright and delighted. "That was my favourite song, the Ballad of Christine and Raoul." He clapped his hands together, laughing. "You have a _lovely_ voice."

They stood next to each other. She turned to face the lake, him following her lead. Their reflections looked back up at them. There was barely a ripple on the calm surface.

"Likewise," Arya said, responding to his last comment. She smiled cautiously, then brought two fingers to her lips, ignoring the usual propriety, "I am Arya."

He repeated the gesture, "I..."

She waited.

"Shall tell you another time." He finished, hesitating.

Arya watched him. The stranger was very attractive, looking like some exotic cross between a human and an elf, his strong features and build exuding an aura of finesse that she could have sworn he had royal blood in his veins.

"What are you doing out here by your lonesome?" She asked after realizing she had been staring impolitely, and that he had been surveying her much the same way she had him, albeit in a subtler manner.

Arya gave a small laugh as she noticed the pinkish tinge on the tip of his straight nose and fairly pointed ears from the chill. Perhaps he was used to a warmer climate.

He chuckled as well, "I could ask the same of you. Judging by the richness of your garments, you have just escaped from a party?"

Arya grinned, feeling at ease in this comfortable atmosphere, "I wouldn't have called it an escape; more of a…respite you could call it."

"Oh. Is that so? And why are you on this...break or respite, of yours?"He inquired curiously.

"Rather persistent suitors pursuing me around the dance floor." She commented bluntly with an exasperated air.

He nodded, rubbing his carved jaw and chin with embarrassment. Arya's gaze was drawn to the small well kept stubble on his skin that made him look older than his years. "I get that too sometimes," He replied.

She shook her head, sitting on a damp log nearby. She beckoned to him and patted the seat next to her, indicating for him to join her.

He obliged, fine brown hair fluttering faintly as he sat, settling around just past his shoulders. Sighing heavily, he rested his elbows on his knees. "You must be very important to be at such a formal event, are you a noble or royal?" He quickly added after realizing his candor, "...forgive me, that was uncalled for, it is none of my business and I did not mean to pry-"

"It is all right. I'll tell you, but you must promise you will not treat me any differently." Arya said seriously.

He nodded sincerely, "Of course."

"Well then… I… I am the Princess of the Elves, the heir to the throne of Ellesmera." She said in barely a whisper.

The stillness was uncomfortable.

Arya shifted a little, turning her head down and away from him.

After the shock had worn off, he leaned back and planted his hands behind him to hold himself up. He blew a deep breath from between his lips.

"..am I to get down onto my knees and bow to you?" He said cheerfully, his expression changing from initial utmost horror, to resigned amusement.

She was taken aback, surprised, and frowning confusedly, she looked back at him.

A slow smile spanned her face, and eventually, she laughed. Arya punched his arm lightly in jest, "No! Certainly not. But...why this reaction? I half expected you to-… most people scramble for manners when my identity is revealed. They fawn and instantly, they close up."

He looked inquisitive, "Did you not make me promise to stay as I was?"

"Well," she considered, "I didn't think of it like that, nor did I expect you to receive me with such kindness. So, thank you."

He inclined his head nonchalantly. As she did not speak, he tilted his face upwards, and Arya watched as it was illuminated by the pearly white glow of the moon, "It is really nothing. No problem at all."

They stayed in contented silence for awhile again. She broke the peaceful hush around them first, and after the ice melted, they both conversed easily. The duo talked for over an hour. Arya found him to be a worthy listener, while in turn, he deemed Arya a very interesting person. Both found they had much in common and at one point talked about the finer points of archery and styles of sword fighting.

Soon, it was late, and it all ended too fast once the elves started calling for Arya.

He sighed, offering his hand politely, pulling her up gently from their seat.

"I have enjoyed our conversation this night immensely, Princess Arya," He said, "But it seems you are needed elsewhere, I think."

Arya glanced over to from where the voices drifted, calling her name. She did not want to leave, she did not even know his name!

"As have I, good sir, but it is the inevitable that we must part. My party-goers call, and I, as the main focus of this occasion, must attend to my duty of dancing with the young men..." She joked in a faux-serious tone.

He laughed, then lifted her hand to his lips, brushing her fingers with a light kiss. He bowed gracefully, "May we meet again, Princess." he seemed to consider something, "Maybe you would like to meet for noon meal some time?"

"I would greatly like that," Arya responded, her expression was genuine. "But, I have not seen you around these parts of the forest, are you staying long?"

"Well, seeing I have found reason to, I am reconsidering." His eyes danced merrily, "I will consult my father; he is here on business. We were originally going to stay for only a week or so."

Arya did not want to seem too probing and let her question about his father pass, she flushed a little though, at his words, "That is good, then. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow. I have a council I have to attend to with my mother which concludes just before mid day."

He nodded in agreement, "Very well. I will escort you from the gates of Tialdari hall then?"

"Yes, I will bring you to one of my favourite lunch spots."

"I look forward to it."

"Tomorrow then."

The voices were getting closer, she could hear brush and branches being moved around. Arya felt somewhat like a hunted animal.

He backed away slowly, winking at her and disappearing into the undergrowth not a moment too soon, as elves burst into the clearing.

She watched their approach.

It was Faolin.

The other elves looked mightily relieved, but he strode forward agitatedly.

"Where _have_ you been?!" He said, running a hand over his hair, "we have been searching for over a half hour!"

Arya calmed him by a light hand briefly on his sleeve, "I was here all along. I needed some fresh air."

He sighed, exhaling deeply, "We should head back, the party is still running."

He ushered her towards the palace again. Walking ahead of the other elves, he leaned close to her ear, "I heard voices, where you talking to someone?"

She smiled kindly at him, "No Faolin. That must have been another couple out tonight."

He clearly looked disbelieving, but did not ask further.

The rest of the party passed agonizingly slowly. She was required to present a speech, thanking all her guests for attending her celebration and wishing them a good night. The elves took it as their cue to slowly start leaving, and came up to congratulate her one final time.

Naaira, who cornered her just as the ball dwindled to an end, while the company left in twos and threes, had a knowing look upon her face.

"You met someone out there, didn't you?" It was more of a statement, that she said bluntly, "A he."

"I beg your pardon?" Arya folded her arms over her chest.

"I can tell." Naaira said, sitting in a chair facing the princess, who was fighting to keep her face straight. "Who was it?"

"How can you tell?" Arya asked, defensively.

"I can always tell, Arya, I have known you for long..." she giggled, "and when you came in, you had a barely noticeable dreamy smile and distant eyes when you joined the ball again. You seemed to be in a contemplating state for the rest of the night."

Arya's mouth dropped a little, "Was I that obvious?"

Naaira shook her head. "Only to me, maybe your mother, she had a questionable look on her face when she left for her quarters… and probably Faolin. I can tell he is looking suspicious."

"Oh."

Naaira swirled her faelnirv in her gold rimmed glass tumbler, "So, who was it?"

"Just some person I accidentally discovered.''

''Must be someone unusual,'' Naaira remarked, ''I've never seen that expression on your face.''

Arya's cheeks tinted red, and she averted her gaze to the floor. She was doing that a lot that night, she noted to herself.

She spoke, her voice subdued, ''I do not know his name, but he promised to meet me tomorrow for a meal at noon.''

"A date!" her friend exclaimed triumphantly.

"I wouldn't call it that. It is just a meet between acquaintances." Arya murmured, the corners of her mouth lifted.

"What about Faolin?" Naaira observed puzzledly.

"I don't know. I am not sure where we stand together really." Arya answered honestly.

"So is the man you met today the one then?" Naaira asked seriously.

Arya fiddled with her fingers, "I'm still very young yet, Naaira, its hard to tell. I just want to be friends right now."

"Physical friends?" Naaira asked cheekily.

"Naaira! He is not like that at all!" Arya looked comically shocked. "I will have you know, he is very courteous."

"Tell me that after your date," Naaira said, standing as Arya followed her movement, "for now, let us have a well deserved rest."

They joined Faolin outside. Naaira left when they walked by her home, offering a warm hug, a wink and farewell, looking at Arya knowingly, while her Arya's guard looked on bemusedly.

Faolin made sure Arya was comfortably ensconced and safe in her own rooms before heading off.

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Nice and long chapter…

and my pitiful authors notes sadly short…

I am soo sorry this chapter is so cliché and cheesy … just the way I like it.

Three guesses who our new resident charmer is?

I want to write a longer A/N but can't be bothered (for once, it's less than half a page lol)

Please **review**.


	3. Chapter 3: The Date that was Not A Date

Really, no offense, but where have all the brilliant Eragon writers gone? -all the legends?? Like _Aeronnen_, _The Sun Also Rises_, _Eternity's Angel of Mercy_, _BlackBird'292_, _alsdssg_ etc. You've left the noobs (as again, no offense, truly) to take control of the Eragon fandom!

**DarkShruikan**: If you haven't noticed, this is AU, therefore Saphira may not even make a presence in this story because of the timeline.

**Euphora**: Eragon isn't brilliant, but he can sing relatively well I guess, because he hasn't been raised as a farmboy here, instead he's been all over Alagaesia.

**Eragon n Murtagh**: I'll update when I want to.

**Chasingfireflies**: You're as random as ever :D

**Squealing Lit. Fan**: You'd better review lol

**Catastrophic Composer**: No Faolin is just Arya's guard, and close-ish friend. Eragon's mother might be revealed later on, but I really can't be bothered addressing all of that background stuff, it's quite irrelevant in this story, for now.

Disclaimer: I wouldn't want _Eragon_ if someone gave him to me for free any more....unless maybe _Murtagh_ came with the deal as well...

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**Chapter Three**

**The Date that was _Not_ A Date**

--

It took the elf princess a full whole hour to make herself presentable, fussing over her attire for what she called, a "friendly lunch" with Eragon.

She had walked- very quickly- for nobles did not _run_, back from her conference in nervous anticipation.

Arya snatched gowns, dresses, fine tunics out of her wardrobe, parading in front of the mirror, frowning to herself.

When the numerous articles of clothing were all spread over her bed, and she reached inside for the last one, she was surprised her fingertips met a soft, cool silkiness.

She moved further in, grasping the material and taking it gently out.

When the dress was in her hands, she gazed upon it in memory. It was the last gift her father had given her: a light, delicate, summer dress, white and glimmering with a soft glow from interwoven glitter and fibers, crafted with painstaking meticulousness.

She slipped it on reverently, taking a breath before turning around to the mirror to view the back. She had planned to wear it for her father when he came back from the war. That was not to be.

It was a special present that she treasured, it had never seen the light of day ever since it had been presented to her; there hadn't been an occasion important enough.

She sighed, smoothing it out, undecided.

A loud knock came from the door.

Arya headed to unlock it, and immediately wished she didn't. Her mother stood on the top step, humming contentedly to herself. She swept in, looking like she owned the room and set about, picking things up and inspecting the garments laid out.

"What-" Islanzadi started but cut off when she saw what Arya wore, looking at her for the first time since coming into the room.

Arya smiled weakly, and her mother's eyes gleamed, seeming about to cry, remembering where the dress had come from, but having never seen Arya in it.

"My daughter," She breathed, "You look beautiful." Islanzadi took Arya's hands in her both of her own.

"Thank you, mother." Arya replied, looking a little abashed.

"Ah, so this is the reason why you hurried away earlier," Islanzadi seemed to think of something, "But what occasion warrants this great pleasure of putting this dress into use?" She asked.

Arya shyly answered, "I am going out to noon meal."

"With whom?" Her mother inquired, eyebrow cocked.

"A person I met yesterday."

The queen grinned, "Seems like I was successful after all."

Arya answered, "Not at the ball." She did not elaborate.

Her mother sighed in resignation, gently turning Arya around by her shoulders to fix her hair, sitting the princess down before her vanity.

Her nimble fingers quickly plaited the thick, glossy raven hair, pulling it away from Arya's face, fringe swept up, several stubborn hair strands hanging around her face, but helping to accentuating the curve of her jaw.

She tied the end deftly with a silk ribbon, then directed Arya to twirl before her, clasping her hands together and sighing as she gazed upon her daughter.

"I wish you luck then."

--

Arya found Eragon waiting at the gates minutes before their planned time. She had decided to go early, but it seemed that Eragon had the same idea. She had gently dismissed an obviously unhappy Faolin, who was skeptical about the idea of lunch without protection.

When they saw each other, both faces cracked into wide grins, Eragon's perhaps more reserved than her.

He quickly bowed, starting the elven greeting first. She repeated his words and soon, both set off down the track, Arya leading the way slightly ahead.

Further down the track, she turned her head to glance slightly at him, "So, have you been to my city before?"

His face turned to her as well, "No, funnily enough, of all the places I have been, I have not visited the elven capital once."

"Ah, so you were born in Nadindel? Osilon? Kirtan? Silthrim, then?" Arya inquired, brushing an obstructing branch out of her path.

Eragon looked uncomfortable for a moment, "Nay, my lady, I was not born in any elven cities."

Arya looked puzzled, "But surely you are of elven blood, for you have our looks?"

Eragon hesitated, "No, I am only part elven. It seems one of my ancestors was fully though. Perhaps that is why I have inherited the features and looks that seem to have skipped several generations in our line."

The princess did not speak for a moment, "So, if you were not born in our forests, where were you then?"

He held up a finger, "There you are wrong, my lady, I _was_ born in your forests, however in a place where dwarves, humans and elves live and convene for meetings."

Arya thought for a moment, "Ah, Ilia Feon."

Eragon nodded, "That is correct. I was raised there for much of my young life. As I grew, we moved to Ceris for my studies. Then they sent me to Doru Areaba for extended learning with the Riders, who accepted me as one of their own. My art of sword fighting was gained in Ceunon, where my elven swordmaster lived, and there I completed my apprenticeship. As Narda is the place where most ambassadors stay before and after their voyage to Vroengard, I spent several years there for political lessons -I must say, I was not known there as one of their favourite students…I was much too hotheaded."

She chuckled as they stepped over the threshold of the eating place, her eyes roving around the room for a vacant seating.

Eragon beckoned to Arya, and they headed for a small table off in a corner. The large open window by the seats offered a strong beam of sunlight across the table, illuminating the forks and knives, setting them glinting in the light.

When they settled into their seats, Arya spoke. "It seems you have traveled frequently then," a tinge of wistfulness seemed to colour her voice.

Eragon seemed to pick on her change of tone, "One day you will be free… perhaps if your mother allowed it, we could travel the land together. I know a great many placed which I would delight in sharing with you."

Arya sighed, "That will be my dream. I would enjoy being your companion very much. But it will be long before my mother will consent to my leaving the protection of Du Weldenvarden."

Eragon tried to lighten the atmosphere but ignoring the latter of her statement, "Yes, I am sure you would love Farthen Dur, their halls are awe inspiring; majestic. The dwarves certainly know their craft well."

Arya nodded, "I have heard of that place, Tronjheim."

"Of all places, that is possibly my favourite." Eragon murmured thoughtfully.

"Why is that?" Arya asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Because the dwarves there were a constant source of amusement for me- although they are very puzzling at times, especially with their beliefs and such." Eragon replied, grinning.

Arya smiled, "The only dwarves I have seen are messengers and ambassadors; they are always very grave."

"Then you will like my dwarven friend- Orik. He is at Orthiad at this moment. We are almost like brothers in arms." Eragon declared, smirking when he remembered all the trouble that he and Orik caused together in his youth.

"You must introduce me to him," Arya said, her voice eager, "I would very much like to meet this…Orik." She said the word slowly as if the pronunciation of the name was unfamiliar to her tongue.

Eragon was cut off in mid word, as the female elf came to take their orders.

After an extremely fulfilling salad lunch, the duo headed out again, Arya showing him around the beautiful paths of Ellesmera.

They stopped frequently at marketplaces, admiring finely made jewelry, pots, swords and items that the elves put proudly on display.

It was when they passed the stalls and walked the main street, did Arya summon up the courage to stop and decide to visit Naaira in her store.

When her friend saw Eragon, her reaction was predictable, and while Eragon said his greetings politely, Naaira stood and gaped openly.

"It is good to meet you, Lady Naaira," Eragon said, his gaze looking panoramically around the room, "You are very talented at your sewing- perhaps I shall drop by another time to try some of your tunics?"

Naaira's voice came out high pitched, and she cleared her throat embarrassedly before trying again. "No. No, I'm no lady, just call me Naaira," She choked, shaking her hands in denial in front of her vigorously, giving a few nervous laughs, though she seemed very pleased with his comment, "And yes, do come around again."

Arya looked amused, and as she looked at Naaira concernedly, who was hyperventilating slightly. Eragon stiffened unnoticed by both women, his eyes turned blank for a while.

When he straightened, he bowed to both women, "Excuse me ladies, but it seems my father requires my presence," He turned to Naaira again, "It has been a great pleasure meeting you, Lady Naaira, I hope we will meet again soon."

Eragon took Arya's hand, and gently laid a tender kiss on the smooth skin, "Your company today was very pleasant, my princess, and very agreeable. Thank you for taking me around Ellesmera, it is not often I have the chance to appreciate such…beauty. Perhaps if you are not busy, we can dine together again."

Arya blushed slightly at his words, a flush colouring her cheeks, a strange high pitched squeal that sounded half hysterical and half lunatic came from Naaira's direction. "I would like that a lot indeed," Arya answered, eyes dancing.

He bowed once more, then backed out, heading for the door.

"Wait! I do not even know your name." Arya called to his retreating back.

Eragon glanced back slightly, gave a mischievous grin, then pushed the door open fully, the bright light rendering his body into a dark silhouette and gleamed around the edges of his clothing, making him seem to be emitting a warm glow.

The door closed with a soft snap, but Arya's eyes were still glued to the exit the man had just gone through.

She was interrupted from her thoughts when Naaira let out a breathy sigh.

"Heavens above!" Naaira exclaimed, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide open as she stared at Arya, seeming to have regained the power of speech. "What a catch!" She collapsed into a chair nearby.

Arya's eyebrows drew together, her expression bemused, "Why is that? Do you know him?"

Naaira simply stared at her in what seemed like utter incredulity, seeming about to drop into a dead faint, "That, is the _Eragon_ I was telling you about, you dwarf waste material! How could you not know?"

Arya's jaw dropped considerably, "Are you sure of it?"

Naaira slapped her forehead in an uncharacteristic gesture, "Of course, there is no mistaking those eyes…" She smiled distantly.

"They cannot be so distinctive? Maybe I should ask him…" Arya murmured.

Naaira sat up straight abruptly, "Do not do that!" She cried, appalled, "You must play the part of a lady courted, go along with him."

"I am not being courted!" Arya cried, though her face turned rosy.

Naaira sighed frustrated, "Arya, did you not see the way his eyes softened and his voice lowered when he spoke to you? And when he spoke about the 'beauty' in Ellesmera, without doubt he was referring to you."

Arya looked at her disbelievingly, but feeling more than a little delighted and elated inwardly.

Naaira seemed to mock weep, "My life is over," she said dramatically, "He is out of my grasp and off the market!....and those eyes…"

Arya looked at her incredulously, "Off the market?" she sniffed, "such a uncouth term!"

"You can say that, since he is yours..."

"Ridiculous." Arya said, sniffing, but turning her head away as her cheeks flushed an even brighter red.

The minutes passed by agonizingly slowly for Arya, but rather quickly for Naaira who was thoroughly enjoying teasing her counterpart and making her squirm.

It was nearing dark when they decided to part, Arya back at the castle to her inevitable interrogation by her inquisitive mother.

As Arya moved toward the door, she was tugged back. Naaira held onto her hand, her eyes were sparkling, "I envy you, my friend. Do not let this man pass. Cling onto him for dear life."

Arya lifted an eyebrow, "Does that not sound overly desperate to you?"

"For an epic love that could be told by elven poets in the future?" Naaira said, "Nay, far from it."

Arya laughed lightly, "I will keep your words in mind, and I will visit soon."

And as she left, and walked down the path, she held down her laughter as she listened to Naaira's rants which grew fainter with every step she took, about Eragon's 'divine eyes…'.

* * *

And so, his identity is revealed! -Although many of you knew that before this chapter. I've decided to shorten this fic, so much of the detail of their growth of their relationship will be cut out and the ending will not end in Galbatorix's demise, it'll probably stop during Book two or something.

Btw, sorry for my pissiness to reviewers above, but I'm bored, and I didn't really want to bother updating in the first place.

Anyway, review!! Please, I need to feel some love :) The Chuck fandom is not as forgiving as you people here; of course they're great, but the level of their writing exceeds the Eragon fandom and it's hard to grovel for reviews unfortunately.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4: The Nobleman & the Bodyguard

To make this clear: the Eragon in this fic is the Shadeslayer, not the first Eragon. This story is **AU**, therefore if I want Eragon to be alive in the time of Arya's youth, then he _will_ be.

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, but I might as well do, since Brisingr is written exactly like fanfiction anyway. I'm wondering whether he found the time to read our stories and incorporate it into his book… ;)

* * *

**  
Chapter Four**

_  
The Nobleman and the Bodyguard_

---

The next day was spent mostly in the training field. Eragon and Arya sparred without tire for hours on end, neither could get the upper hand without the other turning the tide and fighting back with a flurry of blows.

Crowds had long since left when they realized their princess and Brom's boy sparred without pause.

They sure were not the best in Ellesmera, but Eragon had certainly put on a show with his ferocious blows that had evolved from necessity of killing and efficiency with his traveling.

Quite a pair, Arya was his perfect complement, graceful and cultured, beautiful movements and skillful handling of her sword.

Saphira lay languidly in the far corner, eyes closed and smoke curling like wisps of grey silk from her nostrils, as she slept, ignoring the persistent clashes of metal.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Eragon slid his blade over Arya's guard, one that he had found that she continually left slightly open, and as the edge stayed, a hairs width from her neck, she reluctantly surrendered.

As they lowered their swords, Eragon laughed and folded himself to the lush grass. Lying on his back, his sword still held loosely in his right hand, the iridescent beams of light reflected off the metallic blue, creating patterns on the ground a few feet away from his position.

Arya only sighed, disappointed but exhilarated at the workout. She brushed small beads of perspiration from her forehead, shaking her arms out, bones still vibrating from the strength of his sword on hers.

Slowly sitting next to him, she let her arms hold her body in recline, she twisted her torso to watch her companion, and with a start, she found his eyes on her already.

The humour had died from his intent stare, and she could not however she tried, decipher his thoughts, as closed as his face was as he held her unwavering attention.

She cocked her head in curiosity, then leaned all the way around, turning her lower body to prop herself up with her elbows as she lay on her stomach next to him in a more comfortable position.

Before she could steady herself after rolling over, he reached out and catching her arm, with a sudden tug -the movement of his hand so quick that it was but a blur- jerked her support from beneath her, causing her body to fall neatly onto his.

The breath was knocked out of her lungs for a short moment, before she recovered from her shock. Her face was inches from his, she became intensely aware of the personal parts of her chest pressed against his, and the way her soft thigh lined up against his powerfully built one.

There was a lovely flush on her face when she realized where her thoughts had turned to: the hard, definitive lines of his muscle structure under her.

_Oh, these are not the thoughts of a bred princess! _She scolded herself, but another part of her was more interested in exploring this new development.

Suddenly, it was very, very quiet. Her palms were uncomfortably moist, and a tinge of heat erupted in her navel that made her shift. His eyes were dangerous. The thoughts of the scandal it cause if they were ever caught in this compromising position fled her mind.

Her hands found themselves at his collarbones, where the folds of silky aristocratic tunic slid between her fingers. The exquisite feeling was accompanied with warmth from his body and it made her head spin strangely.

She didn't like this. Arya had never been one to distract easily, and she did not like the way he made her forget about self control so easily. She'd always prided herself on her ability for cold reason and clear-headedness.

But his eyes, so bewitching, his scent so pleasant.

_What would it be like to bring a man to bed?_

She could not believe she'd just thought that! Her cheeks stained an even deeper red.

An urgent siren in her mind futility tried to capture her attention, and a sensible voice told her they'd been friends only for a few days…

"Princess Arya?" A familiar male voice rang out over the deserted field, laced with questioning and a tone she never encountered or thought to associate with that speaker.

Something akin to an electric shock ran through her veins and flowed into her companion, pulling them apart with a jolt.

Arya scrambled back, her ever gracefulness failing her in this instant, she couldn't meet anyone's eyes.

Eragon had already found his footing, and offered her a hand. She took it after some hesitation. She had been so carefully groomed for politics, her lessons on portraying herself as a dependent female came back, and instruction of cultivating and honing her political image that it made her guilty to lose her head like she had.

"Faolin-"

Her voice was horribly breathless, and she winced, annoyed at herself for being caught so unlike herself.

Her bodyguard strode forward, touching his lips in greeting and she barely had time to reciprocate before he clutched her arm in his firm grip, pushing her behind himself.

"Who is this?" Faolin eyed Eragon with hostility, drawing his own sword swiftly, "If he has been giving you trouble-"

Arya brushed her hand over his raised arm, causing him to lower his weapon slightly. Stepping from behind him, she positioned herself between the two men.

"Do not hurt him, Faolin," She said calmly, walking to Eragon again and picking up his discarded sword with a sweeping bend, her fingers brushing through the soft blades of grass to wrap around the cool leather covered hilt.

Eragon took the sword gratefully from her much smaller hands, nodding in thanks. Sheathing his sword, he stepped forward with a disarming smile.

"I mean no danger to Princess Arya. We were honing our swordsmanship against each other," He said calmly, very aware of Arya's hand resting on the crook of his arm.

"Yes, I rather think your own is well honed enough." Faolin said mysteriously, glancing between Arya and Eragon.

Arya frowned, "Faolin, what are you implying?"

Faolin looked at her incredulously. "My Lady, do you know who this human is?"

Although his emphasis was subtle, it was clear of he expected Arya to recoil instantly from Eragon.

She did not.

Arya sighed, "This is Eragon, son of Rider Brom, who is a very honourable man. I expect his chivalry to have been passed on to Eragon himself."

Eragon's fingers twitched unnoticeably. _How long had Arya known his identity?_

His heart sank. He had half expected her to step away from him.

Staring at her for a moment, Faolin seemed to withhold a sentence on his tongue, until Arya silenced him with a warning glance.

The other man bowed, sweeping his sword away into its sheath. He seemed to steel himself before he spoke. "It is a… honour to meet Rider Brom's son in the flesh. Forgive me for my boldness, sir, I was out of place."

Eragon stepped forward cautiously, taking Faolin's hand in a strong grip of respect.

"Of course. It is good to meet you too. Arya has only spoken of you with the highest regard."

Faolin gave him a curt nod. There was a pause before he remembered his reason for seeking them out.

"Lord Eragon, Lady Arya, your presences are needed in the council room. Your respective parents have asked that you sit in and learn while they discuss current affairs."

Arya smiled at Faolin, "Very well, we have wasted enough time already. Let us go."

* * *

Hehe, hi? Been awhile, so I thought I'd update this before _Epic Romance_.

Poor Faolin, sorry I had to ruin your might've-been-relationship with Arya.

I'm concerned I might get carried away and make Eragon or Arya too Mary Sue. You'll tell me when I do, won'cha?


End file.
